The Forbidden Room Unlocked
by Erik'sTrueAngel
Summary: Post The Forbidden Room. The creature in the room is revealed… OneShot. Dark.


Rated: PG-13 (T)

Genre: Angst/Horror

Summary: Post The Forbidden Room. The creature in the room is revealed… (One-Shot).

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of the Phantom of the Opera. 

A/N: A few people asked for sequel and here it is! And yes, it was a werewolf. I understand they change under a full moon, but that's how the legend goes. I based my wolf off the movie _Underworld _and a bit from a Stephen King novel called _The Talisman_. So if anyone found that confusing, sorry! I forgot to post a note afterwards about it.

**Also, please note: This story is highly dramatic as Erik snaps once he realizes what he did. Remember, he's not in his own state of mind when this happens. **Now that's done go ahead and enjoy this one! And **don't** forget to review!

The Forbidden Room Unlocked 

By: Erik'sTrueAngel

Salty tangy flesh and warm blood.

That's what he needed, no _craved_. His animalistic hunger was growing rampant and he wasn't sure how long he could last until it wore off.

Just the mere thought of the sweet juice running down his throat made him yearn for the special rare treat he hardly allowed himself.

It had been too perfect when his prison door opened while he paced hungrily for something to curve his appetite. Every time he denied himself to eat and each time it grew harder for him to resist ripping down his prison to hunt. It was the reason he made that door, the black door with the silver doorknob. It was for his protection and the others he cared for. He couldn't… no wouldn't let himself harm anyone he held dear to him, namely Christine.

But when that door opened, the fragrance of that intoxicated ambrosia was too difficult for him to resist. He needed it, no _craved _it.

Within seconds he butchered his prey, drinking the heavenly wine from his victim. Oh, it had been far too long since his last meal of human skin! The stench and taste overpowered his senses as he greedily quenched his thirst for blood and raw flesh.

When he had been ruthless and cold-hearted, he never cared who he killed. There were no names or lives existing as he feasted. He took what he craved and was satisfied. Never mind the poor soul he ravaged upon. As long as he had his fill nothing matter. He was full and that was all that mattered.

Gazing at his hairy paw, the claws began to twitch then it moved upwards. His heart was rapidly beating, the familiar excruciating pain flooding his body, the acute desire in wanting to end this suffering the usual side affects. Slowly, hair turned to smooth skin, claws to fingers, feet shrinking to its normal size, heartbeat returning to normal. It was done. The danger was over.

Erik stood in cool dark room, clad only in a pair of pants. His mask was discarded somewhere, yet he didn't care. His head pounded fiercely as he regained his senses and awareness. Every time he goes through this, and every time it became unbearable for his aching aging body. How long must he put up with this curse?

The sour smell of death greeted his nostrils as he tried not to gag. He didn't want to think about his recent deed. He had to leave now and quickly before Christine returned from confessions. Surely he could dispose the body later when she was asleep or tomorrow. She would never know. She _must not _ever know what sort of man she was marrying.

He wouldn't be able to bear the inevitable heartache if she should uncover his darkest and haunting secret he ever had to carry. He would take this to his grave if it meant for a chance of lifelong happiness. He couldn't risk losing the one he cherished and loved. It would certainly be the death of him if Christine were to leave.

Erik briskly left the room, calling his precious flower's name. There was no response.

Feeling a bit hopeful, he checked all the rooms, calling her name to find the house still empty. He grinned grimly.

Good. She wasn't back. He had time to hide the body.

He went back inside with a kerosene lamp to help him see the mess. He set it on the floor and as his catlike vision adjusted to the darkness, Erik was able to make out an outline of the crumpled body lying in the corner.

Swallowing hard, he stepped closer to the body. The face was hidden from his view, (_All the better_, he thought), but as he came nearer he was able to detect another scent.

It was faint, practically blocked out from the putrid smell of blood to a normal nose, but Erik's nose was far from normal. It was light, airy, and feminine—like wild flowers in a meadow. It was the one scent that would soothe his mind and cause his heart to swell with joy. Only one person he knew could possess such aroma…

A chilling anxiety settled over him as he stared at the body. _No. It couldn't be. It's not! _He firmly told himself. But the erratic throbbing of his heart and blood spoke the truth as he tentatively reached out to move the head into his view. _No! Don't do it you old fool! Let it be! Let it be!_

Yet he ignored the screaming voice. Erik grasped what was left the chin and tilted it upwards for him to see.

_No! God no! _

The terror-stricken expression, the widened frighten eyes, the red mouth agape in horror gazed at the quivering man. Once so beautiful and lively, now bloodied and stuck in a nightmarish Hell for all of eternity.

Erik jumped back from the lifeless form, his amber eyes growing large with trepidation. He couldn't look away. He couldn't! The fire from his lantern cast shadows over the corpse's ghastly visage, the fear dancing in her doe brown eyes! All because of him! Him!

"No!" he moaned, falling to his knees, covering his face as he rocked back and forth. "No! Christine! No!"

"_You killed me Erik," _her voice laced with indifference and spite accused him. _"You killed your living bride!"_

"No! I didn't… I wouldn't!" Erik sobbed as his beloved condemned him. "It wasn't me! It was the beast! The monster inside your poor Erik! Oh Christine! Why? Why!"

"_You killed me. You **ate **me!"_

"I didn't mean to! Forgive me! Forgive me!"

He crawled over to her, grasping her face and pulled it to his chest. "No!" he cried as he stroked her tresses, squeezing her body to his own. "Please don't leave me!" Erik pleaded as he held her. "My angel! My angel!"

He looked down at his hands, covered in her blood. Shocked, Erik stumbled back, staring at his stained hands. "Her blood! My God her blood!"

His yellow orbs darted around the room, frantic and desperate. He murdered her. He murdered his love. And it had been his monstrous hands.

"Christine!" he screamed, as he tried escaping from the room, from her. Yet he fell back inside, groaning and crying. Everywhere he looked her blood was all over-- the walls, the floor, and his mask. It was there.

His chest was covered in red. And it was _hers_!

Viciously, he scratched at his flesh, trying to rid himself of her. But more and more of the crimson were appearing.

Hysterical, Erik ran to the stonewall and clawed at it, rubbing himself on it. He had to get her off. He had to get her off!

He slammed his head against the wall, crying incoherently. _Gone! Gone! Gone! _

Erik crashed his skull once more before he fell to the ground. Christine's face watched him as he began to slip into oblivion. The last coherent thought Erik had before blacking out was,

_Why didn't you listen to me?_

The End

This story had been bugging me so now it's off my chest. Dark, yes, but I blame it on my muses. Now please review!


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